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org. She gained her room, and slammed her door and locked it as though she feared violence and pursuit. They found out Cris had some sort of criminal past, more child abuse stuff of course. She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. Her husband was prouder of her every day. He glanced at the ruins of his High Priestess. The door was then locked, and he was left alone. I’ve never muffed an exam yet. CHAPTER XXVIII.
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